Waiting Room
by mispel
Summary: In the future, Willow and Drusilla spend time together. Last part in the series, Waiting For The Apocalypse. Willow says good bye to the world.
1. Waiting Room

Title: Waiting Room

Author: mispel

E-mail: mispel@email.com

Rating: PG13

Summary: Future Willow meets Drusilla in a strange place.

Disclaimer: Joss, ME, and Fox own everything.
    
    Feedback: Feedback would be appreciated. 

Waiting Room

Drusilla's hands looked like two bugs as she made them crawl down her skinny legs. Willow shuddered. Like the place wasn't creepy enough.

"So, how long have you been here?" Willow said in the tone of one just trying to make conversation.

Drusilla looked up without surprise or recognition.

"My fingers stopped growing. You shouldn't water them, you know," she spoke as if Willow had been there all along.

"Still insane then? Must be nice."

Willow sat across from her on the other bench. She checked under it and in the dark corners. This time there were no tiny demons waiting for the chance to latch onto her.

"Are you sure you're supposed to be here?" Willow asked hoping that she might get the waiting room to herself.

"No one is supposed to be here. Shhhh." 

Drusilla had raised a finger to her lips, but when she saw it in front of her face it distracted her and she crooked and uncrooked it. Willow thought she could hear a tiny popping sound as she did that. 

Willow started to rub her temples. There was no use getting irritated, she was empty. As she sighed and looked down, defeated, she noticed Drusilla's bare and dirty feet under her long black dress.

  
"It's not the worst choice. I've worn some shoes, let's just say walking barefoot would have been easier on my feet." 

Willow had decided that the sound of her own voice was preferable to any noise she might hear in this place, so she just kept talking.

"I don't know why the foot fetish is so common. I mean, feet, they're so utilitarian. Sure they can be pretty. But only girl feet are pretty. Maybe that explains it. I don't think anyone was swooning over Spike's black toenail polish."

"My Spike," Drusilla interrupted, surprising Willow.

She didn't even think Drusilla was listening. 

"He's dead now," Willow told her.

Drusilla started to wail pitiably.

"Stop that! God! You're already giving me a headache. Lots of people are dead. You're dead. What's the big deal?" 

Willow was surprised by Drusilla's reaction. It had been her impression that their thing was purely one sided. What did she know.

"Spike gave a little, red wagon to Miss Edith. And made the minions pull her in it all night and all day," Drusilla said through tears sounding more like a little girl than before, "Red is Miss Edith's favorite color." 

Drusilla held an imaginary doll in the crook of her arm. Then she did something Willow couldn't figure out. Willow shook her head as she almost had it. That wasn't something she wanted to be thinking about. She had enough of her own nightmares.

"Those red wagons. Radio Flyer? What does it have to do with radios or flying? Nothing. Why can't people give things reasonable names?" 

Willow looked at the other end of the room not really listening to herself. She couldn't hear a single sound from behind the door. It wasn't natural even for this place.

"Flies in my head," Drusilla whispered.

"That makes it OK then."

"Buzzing."

"Oh, those flies." 

"Flies are eating your bones, witch. I can see them." 

Suddenly Drusilla's voice had gotten quite threatening making Willow's head snap back, fast.

"Yuck. Cut it out. You're making my skin crawl," Willow said, shaking off her fear. 

She stood up. There was nothing much Drusilla could do to her. It was just this place and being empty that made her nervous. 

Now that she was standing, Willow had the urge to pace, but resisted.

"I can hear Miss Edith crying. He'll help me find her." Drusilla pointed to the quiet door.

"Then you better go first," Willow whispered, her turn to sound vaguely threatening.

"Miss Edith's hungry," Drusilla hissed in turn.

"Well she won't find any food here," Willow said pointedly.

Vampires knew not to bother with her. But Drusilla was crazy and Willow didn't want to try and fight her off in her condition. 

Drusilla stared hard at Willow then at the door. She closed her eyes and nodded.

"He can't help me. You'll help me find Miss Edith. When you're not empty any more."

"Sure," Willow said, relieved. 

She looked at the quiet door again, keeping Drusilla in her field of vision. 

"It's been forever." 

"You can't know when it's forever. There are no clocks. You're just guessing," Drusilla said sounding almost rational.

Willow knew that time moved differently in places like this. Sometimes a day passed. That one time it was more than a week. She had to be patient. There was a way these things had to go. She had to wait her turn. When he gave her a taste, she wouldn't even have to try, and all of his magic would go into her. It was its natural place now. 

But she had to wait. She had used up more than she expected. It's not like you can measure it out. 

She had to wait for the door to open and for him to start things. Like siphoning gas. He just had to get it going.

"It's taking forever."

Willow sat down again.

"You'll help me find Miss Edith."

Drusilla was combing the imaginary doll's hair.

"Sure."

She knew there must be a spell to keep the sounds in. But these kinds of places didn't usually bother. Who cared about screams or anything. When you are empty, you wait your turn. 

"I don't have a number. So my number can't be called," Drusilla said.

"Right. There should be a system. Maybe a receptionist. And one of those signs, '#58 Now Being Served'."

"Miss Edith is calling for me."

The wait and Drusilla were getting to Willow. She stood up and paced. The whole length of the room and back. 

"My Spike paced. This way and that. This way and that. He was my little prince."

"Yeah, a chain smoking, obsessive, little prince."

"I was his sick, black rose."

"All thorny for him," Willow said absently.

It wasn't like Drusilla was going to be judging her for the pun, or even listening. Still, humor the crazy vampire, Willow told herself and almost laughed. 

She looked at Drusilla again. People were like clocks. She would see them and know that time had passed. Not vampires. Drusilla was the same as always.

Willow still thought of herself as a young woman, or even a young girl. And if she wanted to, she could look like one. Once she refueled, of course.

Willow looked at the door. Without magic she felt deaf and blind. Doors were closed to her, walls were solid, rules applied to her. She had almost forgotten that there were other ways to know things. She closed her eyes and just stood still and listened. There should be sounds. More than the rustling of Drusilla's dress. Or her cooing to the invisible doll.

"How long has it been?" Willow said sharply.

She opened her eyes and looked at Drusilla.

"Has your doll turned to dust?"

"Miss Edith! She needs her Mommy!"

Willow walked to the door. A bad move, normally. You didn't interrupt in these places. No barging in. You waited to be called.

Willow opened the door. She felt a thrill as always but then it was gone. This place was empty, like her. There was a body on the floor. Its neck broken.

"You didn't bite him," Willow observed.

"Blood is all sour," Drusilla said from behind her.

"Magic does that. I kind of like it. Keeps your kind off my neck."

"Miss Edith likes sweets, but she can't have any."

Willow figured that she must have surprised him. He was probably caught off guard by the craziness. Idiot. Now he was useless to her. 

Willow looked around. There were a few books and jars, not enough to bother with usually, but she was desperate. She took a book at random and started to read a spell. 

"You'll help me find Miss Edith.".

"Sure thing."

Willow kept reading, the sound of the words charged the air, like little clouds of static. She breathed and took it in and kept reading. Then the flow started and she took in all the magic in the room. It wasn't much. She turned to Drusilla but she couldn't waste any of it on her.

"Let's go find Miss Edith," Willow said.

Willow rolled her eyes as Drusilla skipped out of the room in front of her. 


	2. Come Out and Play

Title: Come Out and Play

Author: mispel

E-mail: mispel@email.com

Rating: PG13

Summary: In the future, Willow and Drusilla spend some quality time together. Sequel to Waiting Room

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: Joss, ME, and Fox own everything. 

Feedback: Any feedback would be nice.

Come Out and Play

Willow awoke from a strange dream - she had been waiting somewhere, maybe a dentist's office. There was a weird lady there who was looking for someone. Sunshine came through her window, so she dismissed the spooky dream. 

Looking out, she saw Xander pacing on the front path in front of her house, to the porch, where he disappeared from sight and then back toward the road. He had a beach towel draped over his shoulder. 

Willow saw that it was already ten and wondered at herself for sleeping so late. They were going to the beach. She was taking a book; Xander was taking his eyes. She didn't really enjoy sitting next to Xander while he ogled other girls in bikinis, except for the sitting next to Xander part. Maybe she would ask him to help her put on her sunscreen. Or maybe she would do what she always did and twist and turn and put it on herself as best she could. Maybe she would put some on him. She didn't want him to burn. She smiled to herself then put some more things in her beach tote. She went to put on her swimsuit but she couldn't find it.

"Hi, beach babe," Xander said as Willow came out of the house.

"We have to stop at a store."

"Not more sunscreen?" Xander said, teasing.

Willow wondered if she blushed.

"No. I have plenty, thank you."

"I am not begrudging you, you have that delicate, Willow skin to protect."

Willow was sure she was blushing now.

"Yeah, well, I need a swim suit. I couldn't find mine anywhere. Mom said I might have forgotten it when we went to Mexico."

"Ah, yes, the all vomit all the time vacation."

"Yeah, that one."

"So swim suit shopping. Hmm. That doesn't sound so bad. It's next on the list after lingerie shopping, you know."

"Your lists scare me."

The sign on the storefront said, "Under New Management". There were no other shoppers, to Xander's disappointment. As the door chime sounded, a pretty saleswoman, with long, red hair, came from the back. Xander stared for a while then went to browse. And fantasize.

"I need a swimsuit. Nothing... fancy," Willow warned the saleswoman.

"We don't sell fancy. We sell exciting, jaw-dropping, sexy."

"Umm. Do you have anything that won't make me look like a dweeb?"

The saleswoman chuckled.

"I have just the thing." 

It was a cute, purple number, but not enough fabric for Willow.

"Do you have anything with more coverage. I burn easily."

"Oh no, this is your size. Try it." 

She practically pushed Willow into the dressing room.

While trying on the swimsuit, Willow wondered why the woman looked familiar. She smiled a lot and looked at Willow like she knew her. Maybe that was it.

Willow spread her towel and kicked off her shoes. The sand wasn't scorching hot yet. Willow debated leaving her t-shirt on. Then she debated leaving her shorts on. Maybe both. She does burn easily. Xander wasn't looking. She slipped out of her clothes and started to put on lots of sunscreen.

"Dolly!"

Willow was startled awake and sat up too quickly making her feel dizzy and disoriented. It took a moment to recognize the plain, almost empty room. Drusilla had complained about how bare it was. So now they had red curtains. And every drop of light that came in made it look like the room was filled with bloody water. 

"Damn it, Drusilla."

"I want to see the dolly."

Drusilla was standing over her, looking like an apparition out of a nightmare after the sunlit fantasy Willow had been reliving. 

"No you don't. The last time I let you into my fantasy you killed everyone, including little Willow. On her birthday."

"You liked it when I killed them. Your heart sang a song."

"It did not."

"Was Xander there. I like his eyes best."

"Then you shouldn't have killed him. On my birthday. And leave his eyes alone."

"I'll turn him for you like before."

"No."

Willow got up. There was no use going back into it again. She would just have to start over another time. Maybe the bikini should be red. No, red clashed with her coloring. 

Every resurrected memory led to another. They were her treasures.

First, she had relived that day the way it really happened, savored the details. She was in her demure bikini with blue flowers. It wouldn't have looked out of place on a six-year-old. Xander bought them ice cream. He splashed her - but she got him good when he was distracted by a lady in a white swimsuit. The white swimsuit was his holly grail. This one must have had lining. They had eaten hot dogs for lunch and Xander had mustard on his face for an hour before she told him. Teach him to call her skinny. They went home a little sunburned, with their shoes gritty with sand.

Willow would then pick one detail to change and play the events over again. See what would happen. A little purple bikini, maybe a shark. No, no shark. God, it was so hard to keep the memories sweet, especially with Drusilla goading her and demanding her own fantasies. But even Drusilla had sweet old memories to revive. Mostly of her mother.

Still, Drusilla seemed to enjoy Willow's memories more, especially early ones, before Buffy. She was especially fond of little Willow. That's why she wasn't allowed to play with her any more. 

The fantasies had a way of becoming mixed with real memories for Willow. She didn't want to wonder if there had really been a neighbor named Drusilla who brought her daughter, Edith, to Willow's tenth birthday party. A nice English lady, a little loopy. Her daughter was very quiet. Then the nice English lady ate all the guests and even the birthday girl. Is that any way for a guest to behave?

Willow decided that since Drusilla had interrupted her fantasy, she wasn't getting a turn. She prepared herself for Drusilla to be insufferable. 

Or maybe not. Drusilla had that look on her face that said she needed to be reminded that Willow wasn't good eating. Lately, Willow found herself worrying when Drusilla went out. Hunting wasn't as easy as it used to be. She had to settle for the sick, the half starved, the almost dead. She had to be careful or the cultists would get her like so many of the other vamps. 

Willow stood facing the window. She reminded herself of the view outside so she wouldn't have the urge to look. Though the fires did look pretty sometimes. She could change that, make the view anything she wanted. Except she had learned it was best to conserve her magic. She didn't want to have go out there again. 


	3. The History of the End of the World

Title: The History of the End of the World

Author: mispel

E-mail: mispel@email.com

Rating: PG

Summary: Willow tells Drusilla a story. Third part in the Waiting Room series.

Spoilers: for Chosen 

Disclaimer: Joss, ME, and Fox own everything.

Feedback: Feedback is very much appreciated.

The History of the End of the World

Willow had chosen this house simply because it was almost intact. Up and down the street, the roofs had caved in on perfectly lined up houses. They gaped like open moths, their broken walls like teeth. 

Drusilla moved in and out of the different rooms. She looked under the rotting furniture and into the holes.

"There aren't any more rats, Drusilla, you ate them all."

"Kitty."

"You ate the mangy, disgusting cat too. Try and settle down."

Willow sat sideways on the bed and leaned against the wall. The metal headboard had rusted and it creaked if she moved. So she was very still. 

Drusilla sat on the floor in front of her and arranged her dress to drape over the dust and dirt.

"Tell me a story," she asked looking eager.

Willow had lots of stories. Drusilla had even more. But Willow sure as hell didn't want to hear them. 

"Once upon a time..."

Drusilla clapped.

"There was a slayer."

"Booo!" 

Drusilla pouted.

"Do you want to hear the story?"

"I want a nice story. Not a story about Barffy"

Willow laughed. It just kind of escaped in a little burst. It surprised her and she stifled it quickly. 

"Anyway, there was one slayer in all the world. Then she died and Xander brought her back to life."

"Bad Xander!"

"And then there were two slayers."

"I know this story. I slashed her throat," Drusilla said, her eyes shining, "That one was a slayer too many. I fixed it."

"Yes, that one," Willow admitted.

Drusilla laughed, pleased.

"But there were still two slayers. Until one day every potential who might have been a slayer became a slayer."

Looking at Willow suspiciously, Drusilla frowned.

"You did that. You made slayers. You meddled and you mixed. And you took snippets and snaps..."

Drusilla stood up and dusted off her dress.

"OK, Drusilla. Yes, I did that. Now do you want your story?"

As she stood over Willow, Drusilla stared down at her angrily.

"The story stinks like corpses."

"I thought you liked corpses."

"Only fresh ones - smell like lilies."

Drusilla smiled at the thought and stepped back.

"Well, I made all potentials into slayers. One of these potentials had been very sick from a very bad disease. Everyone thought she would die. But when she became a slayer she got healthy. Just like that." Willow snapped her fingers.

"It was a miracle," Drusilla said sarcastically.

"Then it was years later, when everyone got sick. Remember?"

"All the people." Drusilla sounded sad.

"Yes. They got sick and they died."

"You did something again."

"Not yet. Lots of humans died. And the demons tried to take advantage of the sick humans."

Drusilla laughed.

"There's nothing to be happy about. Anyway, the demons tried to wipe them out and take over the world."

"But we need them," Drusilla protested.

"Yes you do, told you not to be so quick with the happy. So all the witches got together to expel the demons. We made a big circle that reached all over the world and opened all the hellmouths."

"Like when you open a door to let the fly out?"

"And instead, more flies came in."

"They were waiting."

"Yeah. We couldn't finish the spell."

"You threw a drowning man a brick," Drusilla giggled.

"Yes, I... we messed up," Willow shifted uncomfortably and the bed squeaked.

"The demons had their day. They cut and rent and slit and crushed. All your little slayers were snapped like green stalks."

Drusilla seemed to be enjoying the tale as she told it. She held the ends of her dusty dress and swayed. Willow watched her for a moment then continued.

"The demons overwhelmed the earth. There weren't enough slayers. I could feel them dying."

Willow closed her eyes at the memory.

"There were too many," Drusilla disagreed.

"Matter of opinion. So the humans were dying from the plague..."

"It was on the telly. The newsreaders cried bloody tears and they choked."

"Yes they did."

"Then it all the tellys went crinkley."

"That's when all the TV stations went off the air. The witches, the ones who were left, got together again to even the odds."

"They made it like it is. The fires and the cults that killed all my babies."

Drusilla turned her back to Willow. Her eyes turning yellow, she glared at the front door with her head lowered. Willow knew that she was getting into a mood. But she continued anyway.

"We saw a way to save everyone from the plague and from the demons. Do you remember the potential who was so sick and got better?"

Drusilla didn't answer. Her face changed.

"I did. All the witches lit special fires that reached all over the world. They chanted and cast a powerful spell. We made the people strong so they could fight the demons and the plague. We made everyone a slayer." 

"Witches! Ruining things!"

Drusilla turned back toward Willow. Her eyes were sharp and hateful.

"Things were already ruined. Now they're just different," Willow told her, holding her gaze.

"The fires won't stop burning."

"They are special fires. They can't stop burning."

"All the slayers like ants coming out of their holes."

"The slayers believed they were chosen to rid the world of demons, they banded into cults cleanse the earth. All the chosen ones thinking they were more chosen than anyone else - all the factions started fighting each other."

Drusilla didn't seem to be listening. She looked down at the floor.

"There used to be pretty things, nice things. Now it's all soot and ashes. Everything dirty and dusty and slayers everywhere," Drusilla's voice had cracked like she was going to cry. She had on her human face again.

"Well not everyone is a slayer," Willow consoled, " In every generation some people are born without powers."

"They get sick and die," Drusilla said with a cruel smile.

"If the vampires or demons don't get them. But with every generation they live a little longer."

"If the vampires and demons don't get them," Drusilla mocked.

"Right."

"You wanted to save the humans. There are no more humans now."

"Of course there are."

"The sick ones. They taste funny."

"No one is making you eat them."

Reminded of her hunger, Drusilla went back to looking around for rats. Her vampire face on, she reached her long, skinny arms into an opening in the wall. She had her arm in to the shoulder but still came up empty. She started to tear at the wall.

Willow didn't move to stop her. She hated this house. The green walls made her queasy. Willow missed their last place. She closed her eyes and she could hear the sound of old wood snapping and crunching as Drusilla searched for a snack.


	4. The Outing

Title: The Outing

Author: mispel

E-mail: mispel@email.com

Rating: PG13

Summary: Willow searches for a missing Drusilla. Tara makes a special appearance. Part four in the Waiting Room series.

Spoilers: not really

Disclaimer: Joss, ME, and Fox own everything.

Feedback: Feedback is very much appreciated.

The Outing

Tara undressed slowly. When Willow tried to grab at her clothes to make her hurry up, Tara moved out of reach. Next she undressed Willow, slowly too. Lying on the bed, Willow dissolved into giggles at the excruciatingly soft touch of Tara's fingertips here and there on her skin, like feathers. 

Drusilla appeared in the doorway of their room. She stared down at the two of them.

"No threesomes!" Willow snapped.

The interruption couldn't have been less welcome. But it was only a ghost - Drusilla hadn't spoken and she had been there only for a second.

"How did you know I was thinking about a threesome?" Tara asked, shifting a little on top of Willow.

"What?!"

Willow was sitting alone in a room with peeling yellow paint. There were scorch marks around one barred window and two ripped up sofas plus the chair Willow was sitting in, still in decent shape, but plaid. Drusilla hated the new place. Willow didn't know how long it had been, but she knew that Drusilla should have been back.

Willow wondered what had possessed her - Willow was out again, and she didn't need to refuel. She was searching for Drusilla. She had roomed with her, allowed her into her fantasies, created ones especially for her. And usually tuned her back so she wouldn't have to watch. 

Willow knew Drusilla's mother almost as well as her own. She was pretty, with dark eyes like Drusilla's only smaller, not so spooky. Her dark brown hair was carefully swept up, unless Drusilla imagined her in her bedroom. Then it fell past her shoulders and Drusilla would comb it with fancy combs. Sometimes Drusilla pushed the hair away from her mother's neck and let it drape down her back. Left with little bloody kisses on her throat, her mother would smile indulgently. Other times, Drusilla just wanted to watch her mother sleep. 

Drusilla liked to sweep through the crowded streets of old London. Taking her pick of victims, settling only for the prettiest girls in the finest clothes and the handsomest boys who sneered a little at her accent.

Willow wasn't walking through a fantasy. The smoke, the dead demon hacked to pieces days ago, now being eaten by two smaller, scavenger demons, all were pretty convincing signs. Even Drusilla's fantasies weren't this unpleasant. She like her air clear and clean - smoke only reminded her of fires.

Drusilla's fantasies always started out pretty. She had a memory that she liked to play with. While hiding inside an old farmhouse somewhere in Europe, she watched a girl in a long, frilly dress walk down a meadow on a beautiful, sunlit day. The path went down a small hill and the girl's steps quickened. Then she tripped and fell. Drusilla giggled. The girl scraped her knee. It bled a little. As the girl walked by the house, Drusilla bit her lip in frustration. That night, she went to look for her but couldn't find her. 

In Drusilla's fantasies, the girl didn't turn toward the village. She went inside the house where Drusilla waited to welcome her. Alternately, there would be a convenient eclipse. The girl would look up frightened and then Drusilla would appear in front of her with a sympathetic smile.

"Did you hurt yourself?" 

Willow didn't like to watch what happened next. 

As much as she wanted to, Willow couldn't shut out the acrid smell of burning, or what she saw around her. Barely glimpsed shapes moved fast inside half demolished buildings. Unburied bodies of demons were propped up as a warning. Human bodies, pulled out of the earth, lay dirty and decomposed. She heard screams and demon howls in the distance. Worst of all, if she wanted to find Drusilla, she couldn't keep out the cries she heard inside her head. After years of cutting off all that noise and need, she was putting out feelers, opening up her mind so she could find a vampire. 

She could sense the general direction where Drusilla was but not why. Drusilla was crazy but she had a perfectly sound sense of self-preservation and never ventured too far or stayed out too long. Now, Willow, on the other hand, was walking around, looking for a demented vampire. She should be home living out a juicy fantasy where Tara nibbled her from head to toe and then they took a bubble bath together, afterward falling asleep in warm sheets, cuddled into a soft, naked bundle. Instead she was prowling around and endangering her limited supply of magic. She was going to rescue a vampire while people who are the closest thing to human died all over the world and she did nothing. 

More than once, Drusilla had asked her to lure victims to their place. But she knew that even if Drusilla had appeared right then, she would still refuse. Drusilla had laughed at her squeamishness. Willow's reasons were leftovers from another time. She wasn't sure why she still clung to them. They all picked sides and Willow was left out. Everything she had tried to do made things worse. She had to turn away from the world. Lose herself. So she fiddled while the world burned. 

Her eyes stinging from the smoke, Willow squinted across an open area that might have been a field once. Drusilla was somewhere on the other side. Not trusting her eyes, Willow used magic to make sure that it was safe to go forward. 

She didn't remember when the sky filled up with black clouds. It happened slowly, gray turned to black until the sun was shut out. The cults sprung up out of nowhere. The war between the demons and the cults had been going on for decades. No one won. 

Things only seemed to get worse in those days when Willow still got her hands dirty trying to help. You don't save the world with a few words in a Latin and some herbs. But you know just how badly you screwed up when you are glad your friends are dead so they can't see the mess you've made. Pulling all that magic out the world had changed things. 

In the middle of the field Willow stopped. Something was moving toward her fast. Willlow closed her eyes and made herself disappear. The thing passed so close to her that she felt the air move when it went by, but it never saw her. Willow opened her eyes and breathed. What the hell was she doing out here? 

At one time, she had tried to be everywhere. She followed the screams and came to the rescue until she didn't recognize human beings any more - and they looked at her with fear and didn't recognize her as one of them. After that, the cries for help were just background noise, and not even that when she buried herself in a memory.

Drusilla had invited her along.

"Come. You need magic, I need blood. We'll hunt together."

Willow just shook her head. 

"Two fiends, we'll be a terror to them."

"I'm not a fiend, Drusilla."

"You're a witch. Your blood is like copper wires, stringing and stinging. Humans have proper blood, blood you can drink."

Willow didn't wish her luck as she left. 

They used to be trees, a whole forest of them. Now only bare, blackened branches reached out to a sunless sky. It was a wooded area a few miles away from their house

"Maybe Drusilla is stuck up a tree," Willow thought. 

"By hook or by crook," it was Drusilla's voice.

It reached Willow suddenly, filling her head. After she oriented herself, Willow could tell that the voice had come from somewhere underground.

The cave was small. Its entrance was hardly big enough to crawl through. Not that it mattered - Willow wasn't going inside. Drusilla didn't like fires, Willow didn't like caves. 

She could sense them even though they wore charms that would have hidden them from most witches - four vampires in addition to Drusilla. Because of the charms they wore, they were like ghosts to her. One of them moved around a lot, pacing.

It took only a little magic and she could hear their voices echo.

"Are you sure she can find us?" It was the nervous one who couldn't stand still.

"Well, if she can't, what good is she to us?" The second voice was gruff, sounding impatient.

"What do we do with this one after."

Willow guessed that they were talking about Drusilla.

"We'll see how cooperative she is."

"Where's your witch, huh?"

"Gravediggers coming and going. That's not the job. They won't earn their wages going in reverse," it was Drusilla's voice, and her patented gibbering. 

"Why do you bother asking her?" A third vampire spoke.

"Are you sure the witch will come for her?"

"How would I know?"

"Are you sure this circle, the Witch's Hook thing, will work on her?"

"It will work, now shut up!" It was the gruff voice again.

"It better work or the witch will kill us," a new voice warned them wisely.

Willow couldn't sense the spell circle, a Witch's Hook. But then that was the whole point. Drusilla had tried to warn her about it in her usual, cryptic way. "By hook or by crook". If Willow entered it, she would have been trapped, their personal genie in a bottle. Drusilla's voice came up to her.

"The canary has stopped singing. Helmets will do no good."

"Can't we gag her?"

"You want to go over there and try?"

"I'm not scared."

"You're an idiot."

"That witch must be something if the cults didn't get a crazy one like this yet. We'll be set."

The ground rumbled. Drusilla laughed as dirt and rocks rained down. 

Willow stepped a few yards away and then destabilized the ground using magic. It didn't take much before the cave ceiling collapsed on their heads. A burial. She waited for the ground to settle. There was no hurry. They couldn't dig themselves out so soon. She closed her eyes and found Drusilla. She pulled her out of the ground bloody and dirty, her skull crushed a little in one place. On anyone else that might have been a concern. Willow fixed it anyway. But not any of the other wounds. A crushed skull is just so grisly. She slapped Drusilla to make her wake up so they could leave.

"Mommy?"

"You start calling me that and I'll bury you again."

"I'm a bad girl, wandered off the path."

"Yes you are. Now, move before we get cleansed."

"They didn't play nice."

"The cults will get them, don't worry."

Drusilla didn't look mollified. Maybe it was the mention of the cults. Willow could hear them coming closer. They had pursued the fast thing that ran past Willow. Now they turned. They must have heard the cave in. They'd mop up. No point wasting more magic. 

Willow got Drusilla on her feet. She didn't have to tell her that the cultists were close. Drusilla almost ran even though there was something very wrong with one of her legs. Willow hurried after her. The cults didn't like witches either.

Drusilla crashed through the front door, shaking. Willow closed the door behind them.

"They aren't following. Calm down."

"Cradle to grave. Grave to grave. Digging them up. Dust to dust," Willow limped around the room and talked fast. She went in and out of game-face making Willow feel dizzy.

"Drusilla, cut it out!"

At that, Drusilla went over to a ripped up couch and curled herself into it. 

"You have to be more careful, next time..." Willow started to lecture.

"It's all crossed. Good night, good night."

"Shhsh, Willow is talking," she said more sharply, "The next time you get yourself kidnapped, don't send an SOS to my brain. I won't be listening."

"It's breakfast time." 

Willow had kneeled by Drusilla to try and keep her attention. Now she got up exasperated.

"Hey, the door is right there. Go wander off, get killed," Willow snapped.

Drusilla didn't move. Willow's head was swimming. She went over to sit in her chair and closed her eyes. 

The vampires at the cave-in crawled out of the ground only to be dusted. Somewhere in the distance, demons gathered around a small cult enclave. They closed in slowly, tightening the circle. Willow thought about warm sheets and warm limbs entwining with hers. And she hardly heard the screams.


	5. Waiting for the Apocalypse

Title: Waiting For The Apocalypse

Author: mispel

E-mail: mispel@email.com

Rating: PG13

Summary: Willow says good bye to the world that ended a long time ago. Part five in the Waiting Room series.

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: Joss, ME, and Fox own everything. 

Feedback: Any feedback would be nice.

Waiting For The Apocalypse

The last buildings left standing were falling to the earthquakes. And the fires were dying. Maybe that's why Drusilla was sitting on the floor, playing with a candle. The house had no roof, and gusts of wind blew straight trough the gaping windows on one side and to the missing wall on the other. Drusilla was turned into the corner so that her body protected the flame.

"What do I look like?" Willow asked her.

But Drusilla was busy. She would pull strands of hair from her head and hold them to the flame. She watched closely as the hair touched by the heat curled upward. As if to escape. She did this over and over until the air filled with the smell of singed hair. 

The candle died as Willow dozed on a mattress.

The dying fires churned out thick, black smoke. There were hot winds blowing the dense smoke to the west. Willow knew the ocean was somewhere over there but she didn't want to think about it. The last time Willow had seen the ocean she had collapsed on the beach, curled up on the sand, choking with sobs. 

Willow opened her eyes to find Drusilla standing over her.

"You look like cobwebs and burned snow," Drusilla told her, her face twisting a little.

"Thanks, Drusilla."

So Willow didn't know what she looked like. Mirrors did funny things when she looked into them. When she asked Drusilla, she only said things like unborn flowers, or the edge of the paper, or church steps. Ask an insane person a question. It's not like Willow needed to know after all this time. It was only because of the day that she even wondered. 

Today she chose to look the way she did at twenty-five. It was comforting to look and know that they couldn't look back and see her.

"It's time, I guess," she said to Drusilla.

Drusilla looked all around, confused. Willow had to take her by the hand.

"We're going on a picnic," Willow said to her and they walked out through the missing wall.

It was soon after they met, when the sky was still stuck in twilight, the clouds not yet thick enough. Drusilla would look up at the sky and smile. She would look for the faint outline of the sun and stare at it like a child. Gloating over an old bully's humiliation? 

Willow knew that there had been a time when a creature like Drusilla would have revolted her. Now she found her almost sweet in her innocence.

Because she had hidden in her fantasies, Willow had missed months of portents that had surged through the populace making them crazier than before. Drusilla was afraid to go out. The humans had dwindled into an enraged, struggling remnant. Drusilla looked very thin, even for her. But Willow didn't worry. It wasn't like she would die of starvation. 

Now that the end was almost here, the earth sent out a sign so strong, Willow couldn't hide from it. This wasn't the Hellmouth spewing out behemoths no matter how big. This was the end. A final destruction. An end to life and the place that held it. 

An apocalypse was worth at least a picnic. 

"No use hoarding the magic. Let's spend like there's no tomorrow," Willow said to Drusilla as they walked trying to keep their footing as the ground trembled.

The ground was made gray by a thin covering of ash, but it crunched under their feet, like dry, dead things. Fissures were opening with each rumble. The air was thin and Willow had trouble catching her breath. The sky was completely black and smoke just disappeared into it. 

Willow remembered light blue skies and clear night skies that were a dark, dark blue with stars. There were good things in this world once: puppies, long ago eaten; flowers, dead, starved of sunlight. There was music, Willow didn't know what happened to it. Maybe cultists still played old records on hand cranked gramophones. But she doubted it. And there were people to love, but they died.

How much of this was her doing? There was a time when Willow had tried to figure it out, measure her fair share of guilt. She was beyond caring now. The world was like a looted building. The best things had gone first. There was nothing left just to bulldoze the crack house. 

Drusilla smiled, first at nothing in particular, then at Willow. She knew. She would have made a great witch. Willow smiled back.

Demon laughter came to her. Drusilla perked up her ears. A few cultists roamed somewhere nearby. There were no screams when they found their pray. Whatever they had caught didn't fight back. The demons knew. Only the human still denied what was coming and wasted time going about their business of cleansing. 

Willow got tired of their noise. She turned in their direction and frowned. Her hand twitched as if it yearned to make a grand gesture. Willow just put them all to sleep with one word. Drusilla was very disappointed, but then she went to feed. It was a feast like she hadn't indulged in for ...Willow didn't know how long. She sampled from each, and returned to Willow happy.

They chose a spot. Well, Willow chose, Drusilla agreed. It was Willow's picnic. It wasn't all that different from the rest, but it was a little more secluded and stable. 

This time Willow did indulge in some gestures as she made it so they walked on soft, new grass. She spread out her arms and all around them there was green grass, never stepped on. 

Drusilla squealed as she felt it on her bare feet. She twirled. Willow walked a little away from her. She looked at her and Drusilla stopped turning. No matter how long she looked, years, Drusilla never really looked back. She was her own world. When Willow had seen inside she had turned away. That was the stuff she had been hiding from, all inside Drusilla's head. So why had she kept her close?

Willow raised her hand and gave Drusilla the night. A clear black sky with just enough stars to count. Then she added people. Everyone Drusilla wanted to see just as she best remembered them, or wanted to see them. She left her to play with them, drain them, whatever she wanted as long as Willow didn't have to watch.

Willow made a sunny, blue sky for herself. She enjoyed the feel of it on her skin and the way it filtered through her eyelids when she blinked.

She raised a hand to each side for some trees. She put some houses in the distance so it wouldn't be too lonely. But it was lonely.

She sat down and ran her hands over the grass, letting it slip between her fingers. She pressed her hands to the earth. She felt the tearing that went on inside it. 

Willow was a child in her parents' house. 

She saw them. 

Her Mom and Dad, wearing their party clothes and big smiles. They had come home giddy from that cocktail party - and maybe a little tipsy. Her father had picked her up to mock scold her for staying up so late. They all took a seat on the couch and her parents looked at each other over her head as they watched late night TV.

Stepping out on the front steps with her arms folded, she yelled at Xander for standing her up and he just stood there. He offered a lame, "I forgot", then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. 

"I don't deserve you," he said. 

She agreed and he smiled. He let her take him to see a late showing of Four Weddings and a Funeral and he liked it. Well, the funny parts anyway. She saw him cry when the guy read the poem at the funeral, and they shared a big popcorn. Afterward they sat on her porch and she leaned on him and almost fell asleep. 

The school grounds were dotted with students. Oz, sitting under a tree, looked up at her as she came over with books. He just smiled and she just stood there smiling back, like a big geek with a pile of books in her arms. Till they started spilling and then she strewed them over the grass. Oz watched her as she read.

The earth shook so violently that Willow fell.

Late night researching at the library, Giles brought her tea and told her to take a break. He said that she had limitless potential, but... He looked at her and squeezed her hand and told her she should have more fun. 

"If you wanted me to have fun, you wouldn't be feeding me tea and crackers. You'd be sharing your stash of good cookies." 

Willow mouthed the words as the ground started to disintegrate.

"I'd forgotten about them," he had claimed. 

"Sure. I believe you." 

Then he went and got them from his office and they pigged out. 

The Bronze filled with people. 

Buffy was dancing with Willow and smiling and being alive. Wearing an awful outfit, her eyes bright, she gave Willow this intense look. And they gyrated around the dance floor ignoring everyone else.

The air was so thin that Willow couldn't breathe.

Tara stood in the field, her face glowing from the sun. Wind was sweeping back her hair and her dress and even the leather coat a little. Her eyes were closed and she said how the world was a wonderful place.

And then it ended.

The end


End file.
